


Lesson Learned

by SHSL_ex_SOLDIER



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, i spent way too much effort on the preemptive steamy part, if you were shocked about makoto's headband, it's a happy accident i swear, then so should akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSL_ex_SOLDIER/pseuds/SHSL_ex_SOLDIER
Summary: “I never knew...” He whispers under his breath. It was so soft that she thought she wasn’t supposed to even hear it. But she did, in all his heartbroken tone. She can practically feel her heart ache at how betrayed he sounded.Her hand reaches out for him, out of instinct, out to comfort him.But his voice reaches her first.This time, there was no way she wouldn’t hear him.“You were wearing a headband all this time? The braids were a lie?? Makoto, what the fuck???”She blinks. He doesn’t. She blinks again.“You’ve got to be joking.”





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

> So the first part can be a bit sensual I guess? Depends on how sensitive you are but nothing too explicit. If you want to skip to the actual conversation then read after "Both of his hands comb through her hair—"

Studying. In a way, that’s exactly what they were doing.

It’s a learning process.

Starting with the basics, the things they should already know. Like how exactly large the height gap is between the two of them and how easily they still fit with each other. How slender and calloused their fingers are and just how nimble they are- dexterity an advanced lesson. And how long can they hold each other's breaths— you know, the basics.

The way their mouths slant against each other until they find just the right angle. The testing of teeth against skin and estimating how much pressure is optimal for pleasure. The curious yet thrilling search done by hands underneath shirts. The correlation between selected spots and the hitching in their throats. The desperate limitations of clawing hands and the adjustment of their volume in moans. The trial and error of pushing forward and arching back.

To them, it’s just another study session.

It's a learning process. One that takes practice to master— lots and _lots_ of practice.

She wants them to practice until they achieve complete mastery. He doesn’t deny his Queen. He on the other hand, just wants to memorize every single practice. He smirks against her lips when a guttural groan rips from her throat. She wants him to repeat his touches. He laughs when she pouts instead as he deliberately stills his movements much to her frustration. There’s a heated lecture ready on her tongue but he easily swallows it, and she lets him off with a satisfied grunt. She easily dominates and he happily complies.

He’s a fast learner and she’s no less eager for those advanced lessons.

This time was not that different from their previous practices. If anything could be accounted for  then perhaps they were more... enthusiastic than usual. It’s hard to explain in detail when everything seems to just blur between them in heated touches and hungry kisses. And although they weren’t connected— not yet, at least— it was hard to tell where one ended and where the other began given how close they are, how temptingly close they are from practically connecting.

Her hands tug at his hair, pulling him down, pulling him closer, deepening their intoxicating kiss. He cups her face, tilts it, and happily drinks in her content sigh. But it’s not enough. She pulls him down harder, his hips grinding against hers as his body dips. They both groan at the pleasurable contact that rippled across their bodies. He feels an oncoming headache from where her hands are pulling at his hair and he feels just the slightest bit vindictive. He lets his hands leave her soft cheeks, dragging languidly upward, towards the crown of her hair. Both of his hands comb through her hair—

Then her hair falls off.

…

Akira stares at the discarded piece of hair as if it was a pop quiz.

“Is that…” His voice starts, unsure if its raspiness is from their exercise or sheer disbelief. Probably both. He eventually finds his voice and it practically cracks, “Is that your hair?!”

Makoto blinks slowly, still trapped in a pleasant haze. When his stare drills into her, she picks back her focus eventually. “Hm? What?” There’s a frown on where his smirk should be and it only adds to her confusion. He gestures to the source of his displeasure and she remembers with surprising clarity, his earlier inquiry. “Oh, that. Don’t be ridiculous, Akira. It’s just my headband.”

He looks at her as if she was the one being ridiculous instead.

“Your headband.” The words fall from his mouth like iron, distasteful and heavy.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” She seconds, completely oblivious to his concerns as she continues, “I didn’t even notice it fall off. Granted this isn’t the appropriate time to be concerned about the state of one’s hair.” She blushes when she remembers their _exercise_ and blushes harder when she suggests, “Which reminds me… Shall we continue where we left off?”

And it’s not even something she would normally ask for because normally they weren’t this distracted or interrupted. Normally, it’s already a given.

“...No.”

Except this seemed to be an abnormal case.

Her eyes widen at the unexpected rejection. “Pardon?”

“No,” He turns her down again, this time more firmly. She thinks he’s joking but his eyes tell her that he’s completely serious about this. He does not back down from his decision. “Sorry, I just need time to process this.”

“Process what exactly?” She asks him incredulously. Just what on earth could have bothered him so suddenly?

“Exactly. This.” His voice practically drips with disappointment.

He gestures to the fallen headband.

She glances at it, hoping to figure out the message behind it. Her eyes catch a glimpse of his unrelenting gaze and the sheer disdain it holds over the headband. She thinks she’s supposed to know it by now, whatever this is supposed to be. But she just can’t seem to piece it right.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I quite follow,” She humbly admits with a low bow.

“I never knew...” He whispers under his breath. It was so soft that she thought she wasn’t supposed to even hear it. But she did, in all his heartbroken tone. She can practically feel her heart ache at how betrayed he sounded.

Her hand reaches out for him, out of instinct, out to comfort him.

But his voice reaches her first.

This time, there was no way she wouldn’t hear him. “You were wearing a headband all this time? The braids were a lie?? Makoto, what the fuck???”

She blinks. He doesn’t. She blinks again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

A minute passes, maybe two. No punchline arrives.

“You’re not.” She punctuates with a sigh. She never expected a perfect relationship with him. She expected a lot of disagreements and a few fights in the future. But this? Arguing over her hair accessory? Do all relationships have trivial squabbles like this? “Let’s be real here, Akira. There is no way I could have braided my hair like that given how short it is.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that? I’ve seen girls pull off more impossible hairstyles!” He argues defensively.

“If they did pull those off then they wouldn’t be impossible,” She corrects him because of course she just has to.

“You know what I mean!” He exclaims in frustration. He knows that he’s lost that argument but that doesn’t mean he was going to be mature about it.

“I can’t see why you’re so upset about this,” She wonders confused. This isn’t a big deal, is it? And yet he seems so affected. She’s conflicted between concern and curiosity.

“I…” He opens his mouth, ready to spill an explanation. It hangs ajar for a few seconds, the words never spill. He shuts his mouth into a thin line. He shakes his head, feeling foolish that he even thought of trying to explain himself. “You know what? Forget about it.”

But forgetting about it is the last thing she wants to do.

“No, no I won’t. We are talking about this right now,” She demands in a powerful tone that cannot be denied. If he was a lesser man then he would have flinched at the sheer authority. As her boyfriend however, he barely managed with a wince. It doesn’t go unnoticed to her and she realizes that this is not how she wants this to go. So she softens. She softens her face, she softens her voice, and softly, she cups his face with her hands.

When he finally gathers the courage to look at her, all he sees is her soft gaze, and how his own visibly softens along with it.

“You’re clearly bothered by this and I…” She pauses to draw a breath. “I want to know why.”

“...”

“Please?”

The silence is deafening but it does little to shake her resolve. She can feel it. The way his jaw slacks underneath her fingertips, as if chewing on his words, words that need to be heard. She gives him a reassuring smile for that extra push. He responds by placing his right hand on top of hers, intertwining their fingers, affectionate and reassured.

There’s a smile on the corner of his lips and there’s a blush at the tip of her ears.

He finally opens his mouth but only a sigh comes out. “It’s nothing… It was stupid anyways.”

But she was not having any of those half-hearted excuses. “Even so, I still want to hear about it.” She tilts his head when he looks away, forcing his gaze back to her. This time he couldn’t look away.

“Okay but promise me you won’t laugh,” He finally relents with another tired sigh.

“That sounds like a prelude to something that I would most probably laugh at,” She modestly points out.

He didn’t take the joke sa lightly as she did since he pleaded again, “Please? Promise me.” He even went as far as using _that_ face, the big eyes with a pout that’s unfairly cute. The face that makes you feel like you were about to kick an innocent puppy. He must be desperate.

“Alright.” She really doesn’t want kicking a puppy on her conscience so she gives him her word. “I promise not to laugh… as much.” Her honest words.

“Good enough.”

She thinks she can almost hear his laugh when he smiles at her antics. She feels like she should do a follow up even but his left hand moved faster than her lips as it reached forward, brushing her bangs away, and tucking a few strands behind her ear. They’ve done more intimate acts together before but for some reason, this particular action holds more affection than any of those more physical. The way she felt his touch lovingly ghost over her skin. The way he traced the movement with his eyes in absolute focus. The way it made her throat dry.

She doesn’t even have to look to know that he’s already smirking.

“I’ll start with the fact that I like your hair,” He starts off nonchalantly, feigning ignorance over the way he just affected her.

“Oh…” She blushes, unsure if it’s from the compliment or the feel of his hand tickling her ear. Probably both. Mostly the latter. “Um, thank you,” She squeaks.

“Yeah, you look really cute with short hair, have I ever told you that?” He lightly taps at the back of her ears where he knows she’s sensitive. She blushes harder. The compliment goes through her head since all her thoughts are focused on the distracting feeling of his fingertips. She savors it and closes her eyes—

 _No!_ This isn’t the time for this!

Makoto snaps her eyes wide open and alert. The glare she sends him is so sharp that it cuts through the mood, the purposefully distracting mood that her boyfriend instigated. “Akira, focus.”

He doesn’t even look guilty at getting caught but he does feel the slightest fear when she sends him another withering glare.

His hand never leaves the side of her head but rather than light touches, he starts playing with the ends of her hair, not as sensual but just as affectionate. “Your braids… looked cute on you too. You’re already a Queen and the braids practically looked like a crown on you.”

“I’ve certainly never heard of that analogy before,” She ponders thoughtfully and then nods in approval. “It’s a welcome thought. Please, continue.”

“It’s true. They suit you well. They always looked so pristine and well done every time, not a single strand loose.” He chances a sideway glance towards the answer, a somber smile flits on his lips. “I guess now I know why.”

“Yes, now you do.” Still, this doesn’t explain anything yet. “And this knowledge upsets you how?”

“I guess I’m just a little bit disappointed. Not at you, just…” He lets out another deep breath and slowly drags his fingers through her hair, tugging lightly when he reaches the tips. He picks up his smile just a bit as he plays with the strands. “I had this little fantasy built inside my head. I’d untangle those braids loose in a mess. Well, I’ll just let you imagine the context for that,” He chuckles shamelessly.

“Akira!” The dark blush just confirms that they had the same context in mind.

“I’d mess it up real good too.” He even ruffles her hair for emphasis and perhaps for a good laugh too. He just enjoys teasing her whenever he could. “No one else would have recognized you as a queen. You’d just be Makoto with bad hair worse than mine.”

“Is that it? Why did I expect something from this?” She pouts at him, slightly disappointed at his childish motivation although it was her fault to expect anything to begin with.

“I’m not done yet.” He shakes his head but at their distance, or rather lack of it, their noses bump instead. An eskimo kiss. He pulls her in further until their foreheads touch. His breath is warm and mixes with hers. His voice is soft, so soft, it’s soothing. “Some time after I mess it up, I’d run my fingers through your hair and…” He does this as he explains but this time he twists a few locks around his fingers. “And then I’d braid you another crown. It would have looked less professional than your usual though.”

“I would wear it.” She leans forward and ever so lightly kisses him on the lips, light like a butterfly kiss. When she pulls back, she dazzles him with a brilliant smile. She could feel his hand tighten around hers and she wonders if he could feel the lightness she feels right now. “I would still wear it with pride anyways.”

“I had a feeling you would but it’s still amazing to hear you say it.” He smiles before he’s even conscious of it. If confessing his stupid fantasy got her to smile like this then it was worth it, he thinks. He can only think of the words that could complete this. “I wanted to show everyone who knew you as a queen, to know that you are _my_ Queen.”

She almost groans because who says that? But she’s getting used to these unconventional lines of his despite the secondhand embarrassment that she gets. “Honestly, you say the cheesiest lines with the straightest face.”

“It’s a talent.” He wags both eyebrows at her and smoothly adds, “One I like to demonstrate around you and only you.”

“I’d be concerned if there was someone else.” She plays along and pinches his cheek just for good measure. He simply laughs it off with a hearty chuckle.

He’s clearly enjoying himself too much.

In the midst of their fun, her eyes catch sight of the headband, as if taunting her. To think that their study session took an unexpected lesson because of this. She’s never given it much thought to be honest. She prefers her hair short for practicality and the headband was just a nice accessory. She’s never really thought about having her hair actually braided. Unfortunately she can’t say the same for his thoughts. He’s given this more serious thought than her. Truth be told, she feels almost disappointed at the missed opportunity. If only…

An idea strikes her.

“Well the braids are fake. There’s nothing I can do to change that now,” She says in a tone that sounds subtly hinting if one listened hard enough. There’s a playful glint shining in her eyes but he’s too busy looking at her hair to notice.

“I know.” He twirls another lock, wishfully thinking.

“I hope you’d still have me as your Queen even without them.” She hopes the joke would get his attention.

“I would. Always,” He answers all too readily and she realizes with a start that she might not have been prepared for neither the intensity of his gaze nor the farsightedness of his resolve. “Even when your hair has gone white.”

Perhaps that was more attention than necessary.

“Thank you… The feeling is mutual.” She’ll dwell upon his implications another time. She may be flustered but she won’t let him sweep her up in his pace. She needs to turn the table and get the conversation in her favor again. “But it’s going to be a while before my hair turns white though.”

“Not that long of a while if your sister is any indicator,” He points out with a knowing smirk.

“Hey! Leave sis out of this!” She pinches his cheek a bit harder this time, it only stretches his smile until it’s lopsided.

“I’m just saying, genetics.” He shrugs, the smirk never disappears.

“We’re getting sidetracked again.” This time it’s her turn to heave a sigh. Why did she even bother? She’s always better at saying things upfront anyways. She lets go of his face and favors playing with his hair. The softness calms her down enough to get her words out. “What I’m trying to say is that. If you’re still with me, in a year or two, then maybe you’ll get to braid my hair by then.”

He doesn’t reply at first. Instead he just simply stares at her for what seem like seconds, maybe minutes even. Gone was his smirk, now replaced with a contemplative line. His face is unreadable and for however long this lasted, she felt doubt creep up on her. Was she too forward with this? Or perhaps she worded it wrong? When will he actually speak? The suspense was getting to her.

“Hm? I don’t know…” He looks away, making it harder to see just what kind of expression he was wearing. “A lot could happen in two years...”

“Please don’t scare me like that,” She sounds almost pleading when she mumbles this.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes when he realizes that she didn’t think he was joking at first. He can still feel the tension thrumming through her so he boldly embraces her, even going so far as nuzzling against her cheek. It takes a few reassuring words and even fewer seconds for her to melt into the embrace. “I’m not going anywhere without you. You can’t get rid of me.”

“I should be the one saying that because I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon.” She burries herself deeper and breathes, “Or ever for that matter.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to those words.” He pulls her in for a kiss but pauses. She opens her eyes just in time to see his playful smile. “Then I look forward to braiding your hair in the following years.” And then he kisses her senseless.

All the while, the headband lies on the floor, forgotten.

* * *

**BONUS: Queen and her crown**

"You're... surprisingly good at this."

Makoto stares in awe as she admires the handiwork of Akira. Who needs a headband when her boyfriend can braid better? She knows she shouldn't be surprised but isn't he _too good_ at this? How is that even possible? He was an only child, right? Has he been practicing on his friends? Or was this one of those things that he's just naturally good at? No, that just doesn't make any sense. He can't possibly have all talents.

But he does have a talent for braiding apparently.

"Picking lockpicks is an art. Braiding is just a conveniently relevant skillset." He says with certain pride and perhaps a bit of smugness as well. Truly, the perks of being proficient.

"I don't think the correlation between those two is that high," She points out with disbelief.

"Really? Then explain this." He gestures to the near perfect braided crown he just did on her.

"Akira, you're just ridiculously good with your hands," She calmly rationalizes.

"You don’t say… what else are they good at?" He asks with an impish grin.

The correlation of the time Makoto spends with Akira and how often he gets her flustered, is obviously highly positive.

"No! We are not going to have this discussion right now!"

"Let's save it for later then?"

"I just can’t keep up with you, can I?”

"You didn't say no."

She thinks that it’s a bit unfair sometimes at how easy he strings her up in conversations. While she does have ways for her to dominate and make him shut up, it’s a bit _different._

"Okay, but seriously. Listen, Makoto." He happily combs his fingers though the unbraided part of her hair.  "Have I ever told you about this fantasy I have? It's about me braiding your hair."

"Akira, you already told me this years ago. It's the reason why I started growing my hair, remember?" She tells him, confused why he’d bring it up again.

"Yeah, but this one's different."

"Different, how so?"

There’s a certain sparkle in Akira’s eyes and Makoto thinks, she thinks she already knows what he’s about to say.

"My hands are all wrinkly and your hair's all white."

**Author's Note:**

> I know you've seen fanarts about this but may I interest you in a fanfic? Because reasons
> 
> I had this in my drafts two months ago why am I like this. So I have like 20 prompts for this ship but I felt like this one deserved its own post.


End file.
